26. Niamh

CHAPTER 26

Niamh

I t isn't fair. There are so many things I want. Things I need. Requirements I want to demand from others. Things I deserve.

But patience is an overarching lesson, more persistent than even the honesty I was taught to maintain while in the Citadel. I am constantly reminded of it, no matter where I am or what I need. When entering the mortal realm. When trusting Caspian. When it comes to finding the truth of my mother.

I must wait and wait and linger. I must stand aside patiently and bite my tongue.

But no more. I am so very tired of waiting.

No more!

I want to scream and storm and rant. I want to be like Caspian and enforce my will upon the world, no matter what it asks of me.

I see him now, leaning against the wall of our space. Our once quiet space, now invaded by many bodies and clashing voices. They struggle to save Minchae who has been bitten by a creature I have never seen in person. Yet another forbidden being from my old life. A lunaria.

A creature who can phase by moonlight into any beast which takes their fancy. Their bite is harmless—unless they prime their fangs with poison. Unless they aim to kill.

Unless they hunt mundane with the hopes of tracking them later.

All of this is explained by Altaris who is speaking to Colleen. With her blonde hair in a coiled bun and a pink sweater with the sleeves rolled up, she leans over Minchae who lays spread over the floor. Her face is a mask of concentration, her hands outstretched, fingers splayed. She is so intent on utilizing her magic, she barely seems to notice anything else.

Unlike me, she is useful. Her odd traits are her advantage. Her magic is powerful, and adept at healing. But in this instance, she struggles. Sweat drips down her brow and she mutters to herself under her breath.

While Altaris watches, his normally closed expression becomes readable the first time. He is worried. So very worried, but not for Minchae, or me, or even Caspian. His concern is for Colleen. There is a protectiveness in how he speaks to her, coaxing her onward.

"That is it, my darling," he says. "Pace yourself. If you die, your father will never forgive me, and we both know what a raging drunk he can be."

Despite the fact that Colleen does not speak, she listens intently. It comforts her in some small way to hear his voice. Like a teacher would for a student, he gives her the strength to keep going. The scene feels too intimate to watch.

A parent might encourage a child in this way. I wouldn't know. I will never know.

I turn and move blindly in search of fresh air. Silence is what I need. I can't think. Not until I'm standing out on a patch of concrete, surrounded by brick and creeping, crawling weeds. I suck in a breath. Release it slowly.

I can barely hear the footsteps behind me, as silent as the wind.

"Come," he says, my Caspian. "I want… I want to show you something."

My stomach churns. When I turn to face him, I can't see his expression. Those red eyes blaze through the shadows but seem more unreadable than the sky up above.

For the first time since coming here, I am wary of him. My heart aches. If he pushes away, I don't know what may happen. I just might break.

"Please."

The sound of his voice entices me toward him without me having made a conscious decision to move. He leads me back inside, past the chaos on the downstairs floor. Up. Up. Up. Past the second floor and onto a third. Here there is just a small landing and a rusted door leading out.

Into the open air where the sky looms above and the ground lurks down below.

"It isn't flying," he murmurs against my ear. "But close enough. For now."

Nodding in agreement, I am stunned to see the city spread before me, a barrage of lights and sounds. It isn't flying, yet…

As long as he's behind me, it might as well be. Despite having been in this realm a few days, he points out things I hadn't even noticed. A blinking, moving star in the sky—a plane. Drifting spotlights. A photo like the one I saw of Minchae but depicting a crowd of people in beautiful clothing. A billboard, he says.

It's the quiet peace that creeps back in between us that I most appreciate. Something happened before. Something that drove and drifted us apart.

Someday it will need to be addressed.

For now, I can breathe, think, and try to remember what it is like to feel this fragile, fleeting peace. Only with him can I ever achieve it.

I'd be a fool to let it go without a fight. Without demanding that he face me. Unlike Day, his anger and moods shouldn't cow me. I shouldn't be afraid to ask him…

"Why?" I say, my voice rasping. "What happened?"

"You called me a monster," he replies, but there is more to it than that. He hesitates. Takes his time to turn and twist his words over in his mind. Then he sighs. "I am a monster. I need to be a monster. To survive him, I had to become one."

In a way, I understand him. At the same time, I don't.

"I never wanted you to change," I insist. "Never. Not once. But I need to be… I can't be like you. A monster is what they want me to be—" The Lord Master, Altaris, everyone. "I refuse to do so. I will not be what they tell me I am."

I simply want to be Niamh. Someone else, apart from the frightened, sheltered being I was in the Citadel.

"I like you as Niamh," Caspian admits. "But people will use your kindness against you. Exploit it. Wield it as a weapon."

Like Minchae wanted to.

Like Day did.

Like Cyrus.

Certainly, he has a point.

"I still want to find my own weapon," I tell him, reaching back.

His hand instantly finds mine. Our fingers interlock. As time passes, that delicate peace grows stronger. I enjoy basking in his protection, but this feels better. Speaking on equal terms. Telling him my fears and hearing him answer back. Yet another, new form of intimacy.

Which feels more intrusive to me?

Having him in my body.

On my skin.

Or in my head.

In my soul.

I feel a shiver run through me as he steps closer. His chill is more comforting than any heat. Any fire. Any new thrill the mortal world could offer me.

Except…

For one thing.

"I found this," I say, reaching into my pocket. I still gasp in awe when I unfold the drawing. In faded light and glimmering shadow, it's even more beautiful. An image created for me.

One that he created.

"It's beautiful," I say, aware of him leaning over my shoulder, staring intently. "So beautiful. Thank you."

He says nothing, but lets the silence linger. He does not know how to react to this: creating something beautiful and watching someone enjoy it. It causes a strain in him—like an old muscle being stretched taut, long after it's atrophied with disuse.

It is a greater gift than any I ever deserved.

Great enough to sacrifice a piece of myself in return.

"When you go to kill Cassius… I will come with you."

"No," he says, but we both know he doesn't mean it. He is relieved, so relieved. Cassius can't crawl inside his skull if I am there, and I will be.

"I promise you, I will be."

"There is something I found," he says next, but his tone is wrong. Too serious for this bright happy moment. Our reunion of souls and minds. There is something weighing on his. Something heavy, and dark that threatens to usher in a wave of turmoil.

Something that will usher in far too many questions.

But this is a game that I started. One of honesty and sharing.

I gave to him.

So, he will give to me. A small blue stone that glows brilliantly when clasped in his fist.

A fae stone, so small and lonely all the way out here.

But why?

Who brought it here?

My heart flutters. "It was a necklace," I say thickly, fingering the delicate chain attached to it. "Someone wore it."

A young fae, perhaps, who stole a piece of fae magic to enter the mortal realm. She found a way to skirt the rule Altaris warned me about.

She truly was here.

Yet she left her only way out behind.